


Inspiration

by AlexisGreen (thealexmachina)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Desk Sex, Developing Relationship, Everybody Comes, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Orgasm Delay, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Spanking, Teasing, That's it, at least once, ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealexmachina/pseuds/AlexisGreen
Summary: Tiran Kandros attempts (& succeeds?) at teaching the Pathfinder a lesson in listening to instructions.
Relationships: Tiran Kandros/Female Ryder | Sara
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Dipping back into writing and defaulting to smut. Because reasons. But it's good to be writing again - anything - so hopefully I'm able to crank up the heat in the house a bit. Enjoy!

A little black dress, smuggled somehow into Andromeda. A little body-con number that moulds to her taut abdomen and pushes her tits up and nearly out of the cleavage altogether. Sara finds it wrapped up neatly in her quarters on the Nexus, a short message scribbled on old fashioned paper on top. “2100 hours. Wear this.” With Scott still in a coma, a single other person on the whole of Nexus has access to her living space; no further instructions are needed. She dresses up that evening, skin goosebumped with anticipation. And a bit of apprehension. Last time they talked, about three days back, they spent the better part of twenty minutes arguing over Ryder’s latest stunt, rushing head long into taking on an Architect, in the heat-burnt outreaches of Elladen. Tiran is partially correct. Okay, very correct. Apex teams were on the way, deployed as soon as intel of the worm had gotten back to him. But Sara was already there, Nomad flying off one dune at a time, itching to try a new Carnifex, and yes, she definitely didn’t wait for back-up. So tonight, she figures it wouldn’t hurt to follow instructions. She slips on the black dress, slicks back her hair and puts on some lip gloss, then squares her shoulders and trots towards Kandros’ quarters as instructed.

Fast forward a couple of hours, Sara’s still wearing her new dress. It’s now rucked up around her waist though, instead of stripped and on his floor, as she expected. One strap has popped free of the fabric, and - stretched as she is over Kandros’ desk, arms trembling as she holds herself up - it slowly slips down, exposing more of her breast with each minuscule slide. She can’t straighten it; she can’t pull it down either, hands planted on Tiran’s desk as soon as she’d entered his rooms. She’d said a sultry hello. He didn’t kiss her when she reached for him, just pointed at the desk and told her she had ten seconds to comply. “Lean down. Face the wall.” Bastard knew exactly what that tone, that voice did to her; and yet she pushed it. She sauntered towards his desk, and the first slap on her bottom came fast, before she’d even reached the place he pointed to. And fuck, has he been delivering punishment since. 

Her ass stings where his palm connects with her skin. Twice on the left cheek, then two more times on the right, fast, then back on the left. Swift, steady, constant. Right, then left, and right again. Disciplined. She’s lost track of the number, focuses on the feel instead. Hands sweaty on the plastic surface of the desk. Slight friction of the front of her thighs as her body is propelled further by each strike. No amount of moaning has pulled Tiran out of this rhythm. He’d started with a couple of smacks, and teased her for minutes in between, testing the firmness of her flesh, flickering knuckles down her thighs, ghosting over her hipbones. His tongue tickled her skin occasionally, across the top of her shoulders. He lulled her into relaxation. And then he’d given her a safe word. “Carnifex”, or “fucking Carnifex”, in his vexed rumble. 

She supposes it’s only fair, though the relentless teasing is taking its toll. Her hairline’s beaded with sweat all over, hair tumbling forward and hiding her eyes. Blood rushed to her face a while back; she’s sure it makes her look a little wild. Her arms burn with the effort of holding her up. Her backside burns too, hits coming at a faster pace, closer together. Despite the sting, need bubbles just below her skin, as hits land on the interior curve of her ass, just shy of her cunt. Her cunt, fuck, so empty and so, so needy, thong uncomfortably wet and digging into her folds.

“Kandros, I swear -,” Sara attempts to sound menacing, but the words break on a whine. One slap, and another one.

There’s no stutter in his rhythm, right arm still perfectly steady delivering blows. His other hand pushes her hair out of the way, tangling a little in her curls. He leans in, making sure she can hear him. “Sorry sweetheart, is that supposed to be a threat?”

“No,” she concedes. Another couple of slaps. Feeling him pulling her up slightly, hand still wrapped in her messy hair, she ventures on. “Just -“ Her skin itches, teething between too much and not enough.

“What’s that, sweetheart? Say the word and we stop.”

“I need you.”

“Ah, do you, sweetheart?” His voice is equal parts velvety smooth and hard steel. Damn him. “That’s not the impression I got, back there on Elladen. Mighty Pathfinder can hold her own, you basically said. Why don’t you go for it, show me what you can do.”

“Kandros -,” Sara warns. She’s never been known for her patience and fuck, the last two hours have been torture.

“I mean it, Sara. I never said you can’t touch yourself.” He chuckles at the way her eyes roll and close as her hand finds the drench of her cunt. She strains to reach lower, pushes her thong aside to scoop the moisture. Her fingertips carry it up between her lips then round her clit, body going taut, strung up between his right hand still delivering blows on her ass, and his right one painfully arching her head back. As her shoulders shudder in pleasure, the hand at her bottom blessedly stills its strikes, although its pressure stays on, heat spreading beneath the palm that now rubs and squeezes her ass.

For all the relief he’s allowed, the temptation of him, of more is too great, too near. Her hand stutters on her clit, a perfectly competent way to claim an orgasm when she’s alone and far. Her head is still reeling, full with the feel of him so close and yet so disengaged. And worst of all is the ache radiating off her ass; she’s not sure what was less merciful, the action delivered by his spanking or the rubbing motion of his hand now, petting the reddened skin, yet nowhere near busy giving her satisfaction. 

She tries though, tries to bring herself off, despite her traitorous body screaming for his attention with every second. It gets worse though, when his hands leave her. And even worse, when she hears him taking his clothes off behind her, too far away to touch. She knows she can get up any time, of course she can; she also knows that Kandros can be particularly stubborn, so there’s a big chance she walks out of his quarters with zero satisfaction if she moves. So she whines and bites her lips, wondering what he’s doing in the silence that settles between them. Is he watching his work, the print of his fingers quite likely clear on her skin? Is he amused by the way her own hand tries to chase her pleasure? Tries and fails, over and over, because her senses are too wired on figuring out how to get him back to her, to have him draped over her back and drilling into her cunt, and sending her into oblivion.

Bastard can probably read minds though, she thinks, because as her hand still frantically rubs at her clit, the bulk of him now looms over her form, legs just brushing. Is he touching himself, is that what he’s doing? Her thoughts scramble at the picture she’s created, and if possible, her self pleasure seems even less likely now, not when she’s both close and far away at same time. 

“Remind me to thank Liam later.”

“You talked to Liam about this?” Alarm is like glass of cold water on her senses.

“Sweetheart, you hurt me. What we do behind out closed doors is between us,” he runs a knuckle from the bottom of her spine, slowly sideways and over one cheek, reaching with a full palm to give her a reassuring squeeze. “He asked for my sign off on a download of a separate movie library. A section my translator had to learn to pronounce. Erotica, I think you call it.”

“Christ, Kandros, fuck. Fuck.” Kosta, of course, she swears in her head. 

“Not yet, sweetheart. We’re not done yet.” He comes closer though, bodies flush together, and mercy, he’s naked and hard, cock landing at the top of her ass, nestled just so at the top curve of her. He plants a hand on her hip and holds her to him, while he pushes his hard length down against her, pressure letting her feel all of him and leaving her unable to do anything about it. “Tags on a vid drew my attention. It was… entertaining.” 

“You took inspiration from a hundred-years old vid for this?”

“Several hundred years old”, he snorts, correcting her. His cock slides on top of her overheated skin, lubricant more abundant now. When his thighs hit hers, simulating the thrust of his body into hers, Sara hiccups on a needy moan. “Delayed gratification, punishment, obedience. Had to improvise a little, but I’d say it’s been very effective, wouldn’t you?”

“Very educational, sir,” Sara mocks.

“Not sure you’re really grasping the point of this lesson, Pathfinder.” He pushes back, tip of his cock dripping along her skin and away from her as he does so. 

The loss of contact is unbearable. “And what’s that, Kandros?”

“Teamwork, Pathfinder. Teamwork can be so much more satisfying than,” he laughs as she abandons her efforts and plants a sticky hand back on the desk to glare at him over her shoulder, “solo work. When two parties work together,” a bony knuckle presses perfectly between her lips, separating them to reach inside her cunt, “the payoff, the climax is so much sweeter.”

In response, all Sara can manage is “arghgsrghh.” 

“I take it you agree? I am wondering if you truly learned your lesson though? I wonder if the next time you come across an Architect, you’ll charge in head first again? Or if you’ll be a good girl,” and with that pause, he now feeds two fingers inside her, finally awarding her the stretch she needs and craves, making her eyes gloss over with the slow pump of his hand, “and wait for Apex to join you, so your boyfriend doesn’t go completely mental on the other side of your comms link, not knowing if you can withstand fire or not?”

“I’ll be good, Kandros.” Her fist hits the desk as he picks up pace, throat tight with her promise. Her head hangs between her shoulders, her voice pleading. “I’ll be good.”

She comes twice on his cock when he relents and sheaths into her heat. The first orgasm is a furious wave of pleasure that sweeps her up within moments, as her cunt welcomes him, from slender tip to thick root, each ridge along the way making her eyes water. The second is a slower burn, stoked by the frantic pounding of his hips into her. It builds and builds, nearly out of reach for a long while, even after he fingers her clit. There’s leftover anger in his eyes daring her to find her pleasure one more time before he comes too, pulsing inside her, mouth plates at her throat tenderly tasting her skin.

Tiran’s quarters are mostly dark when she stirs in his embrace. Sara fell asleep cradled against his front, but at some point she’s turned and her head’s on his shoulder. “Hey.” She looks for his eyes, fingers light on a mandible. “You know I won’t always be able to hang back and wait for back-up, right?”

“I know,” he trills into her hair, avoiding her gaze, unhappy tones in his subvocals. “For my sanity, when possible, try.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!


End file.
